*cue dream sequence*
There I am, wearing my grubbiest pair of clothes on a marathon laundry day. While switching over load #378, I dropped a sock down between the wall and the washing machine. Ugh, I groan. This is not going to be easy to get out. I mean, not only is there a measly little two inch gap to work with, but it's also in a closet - so there's absolutely no way to pull the machine out. AND my arm is not the 3 feet long that it would need to be to fish that puppy from the depths of that sea.
"Do I leave it?" I ask myself. No, that wouldn't do. I mean, we already have enough mismatched socks to clothe a small village and I've already taken to having the kids match styles vs. colors in order to accommodate all of those singles.
So I slowly lean over and peek down the side. I stand back up and try to battle the confusion of what sat in front of me:
Now what the heck? How is this sock floating? Is someone speaking to me and telling me this sock is meant to come out now? Because it is levitating in that crevasse a good eight inches below the edge of the washer. And all I have to do is reach over and grab it. It shouldn't be this easy.
But it is.
So I do.
And then it came to me. This magical sock wasn't floating. And it certainly wasn't a sign from God that I needed to own a pair of purple socks. No, it was much simpler than that. It was sitting upon a good foot and a half of dryer lint that had stacked up on the side of the washer.
Now what the heck is going on? I check under the dryer and on each side. Is there a freakish hole in the side of this machine that shoots the multicolored lint from our dryer and directly into this crack between it and the wall? Do I have a considerate disfunctional lint trap? I better call my husband in here to help me check out this situation.
"Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike! Baby, can you please come in here and help me figure out what's wrong with this dang machine? It's really weird but..."
And that's when I see my husband and the look on his face tells me instantly that there is nothing wrong with the dryer. But in fact I had found out about his dirty little secret. A secret stash, that is. A place in which to throw the lint instead of in the garbage.
Nice.
So please enjoy the stack of lint below, in tribute to my honey. The man with the best dirty little secret in the world.
"Do I leave it?" I ask myself. No, that wouldn't do. I mean, we already have enough mismatched socks to clothe a small village and I've already taken to having the kids match styles vs. colors in order to accommodate all of those singles.
So I slowly lean over and peek down the side. I stand back up and try to battle the confusion of what sat in front of me:
A floating sock.
Now what the heck? How is this sock floating? Is someone speaking to me and telling me this sock is meant to come out now? Because it is levitating in that crevasse a good eight inches below the edge of the washer. And all I have to do is reach over and grab it. It shouldn't be this easy.
But it is.
So I do.
And then it came to me. This magical sock wasn't floating. And it certainly wasn't a sign from God that I needed to own a pair of purple socks. No, it was much simpler than that. It was sitting upon a good foot and a half of dryer lint that had stacked up on the side of the washer.
Now what the heck is going on? I check under the dryer and on each side. Is there a freakish hole in the side of this machine that shoots the multicolored lint from our dryer and directly into this crack between it and the wall? Do I have a considerate disfunctional lint trap? I better call my husband in here to help me check out this situation.
"Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike! Baby, can you please come in here and help me figure out what's wrong with this dang machine? It's really weird but..."
And that's when I see my husband and the look on his face tells me instantly that there is nothing wrong with the dryer. But in fact I had found out about his dirty little secret. A secret stash, that is. A place in which to throw the lint instead of in the garbage.
Nice.
So please enjoy the stack of lint below, in tribute to my honey. The man with the best dirty little secret in the world.
5 comments:
I'm so embarrassed. But, truth be told, I started a new lint pile right away.
I knew it!! That's why i didn't speak of it in the past!
That is so so funny!! I know alot of dirty little "laundry" secrets about little Lisa-but I think that one beats them all! hahaha-and how often do you really check the garbage next to the dryer??!! It's lint for gods sake-but a rug of lint??Just Kidding hun!!
Love Rae
-and I didn't see a mound of laundry in the back ground!! Thats my little secret! And do you still wear one purple and argile sock when there are no more matches in the drawer? God I miss those laundry days!!Love ya
OOOOOH MYYYYY GOD. That's amazing, Lisa. You are a lint warrior.
Lisa? Where the heck did you go? No more FB??? write a girl! I've lost you long lost friend!
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